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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157464">all flowers in time (bend towards the sun)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/priorviolets/pseuds/priorviolets'>priorviolets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sexual Repression, Sexual Tension, notvirgin!Byleth because that's where it's at ladies!, virgin!Dimitri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:15:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/priorviolets/pseuds/priorviolets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere, a bird calls a lonely cry before meeting back up with its flock. </p>
<p>“A lot of things are changing,” Dimitri says out of nowhere. Then, “I hope our trip goes well.” </p>
<p>“Are you nervous?” </p>
<p>A beat. “No. But I am looking forward to it.” Then Dimitri blinks, looks down at his arm. “Oh. Your hand.” </p>
<p>Byleth follows his gaze. When did her hand land on the crook of his arm, settling there like it belongs nowhere else? She looks back up at him, and when her eyes meet his, something is there. </p>
<p>[Months after the war, Dimitri and Byleth are invited to a wedding for none other than Sylvain and Felix. During their days' long journey to the destination with only each other for company, their repressed feelings and desires are forced to the light.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this...is my dimileth porn manifesto. </p>
<p>some background! this takes place a few months post-AM but this is a fix-it fic, so byleth is not the archbishop and is sort of a weird emotional support animal that dimitri hangs out with at the castle. i want her to live her best life hunting elk and having no responsibilities because she's sexy and it's what she deserves. dimitri hasn't been crowned king yet. </p>
<p>the summary i almost put for this was as follows: "dimileth is invited to a sylvix wedding and they accidentally fuck the whole way there." </p>
<p>enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><br/>i. before</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/><br/>It’s a handsome elk that Byleth has hoisted over her shoulder, the biggest one yet. Never mind the weary-looking guard at his post before the castle entrance, or the screaming child that hides behind their mother’s skirts at the sight of the animal’s limp body—Dimitri, at the very least, will be pleased with her hunt. </p>
<p>She stops short before the guard, staring up at him as she waits for him to let her inside. When he doesn’t, she gives a slow blink and says, “You know who I am. I’m here every day.” </p>
<p>“With another dead animal,” comes the guard’s unamused voice, tinny from within the confines of his helmet. </p>
<p>Byleth shifts her weight to settle the elk more comfortably over her back. “I couldn’t very well carry it back alive.”</p>
<p>“Suppose you didn’t have to carry it at all?”</p>
<p>Byleth shakes her head. If there’s some joke at play here, she’s sorely missed it. “That defeats the purpose of a hunt. And I never miss my shot.” She glances at the door. “Let me in. We don’t need to do this every day.” </p>
<p>The guard eyes her up once more, sighs, and steps aside to let her pass. “Drop that thing off somewhere, will you?”</p>
<p>“I’m taking it to Dimitri,” Byleth says as she steps primly by. “He’ll be proud.” </p>
<p>Whatever the guard grumbles in response, she doesn’t hear it. All the better.</p>
<p>The blessed warmth of the foyer washes over her, and she could just about purr as she stops for a moment and lets it sink in past the mismatched furs and linens draped unceremoniously over her stiff, tired body. There’s the elk too, of course, its body still warm from its short-lived death, but it can’t measure up to the fireplace, the hot water running through the stone walls to keep this massive place beating like a heart.</p>
<p>“Ah, Byleth!” </p>
<p>A light, pillowy voice from afar. The maids, at the very least, are friendlier, even if they struggle to look unaffected by whatever new dead thing Byleth has brought in to drop smilingly at Dimitri’s feet. This one in particular smiles at Byleth with the warmth of a kind but concerned grandmother, her earnest eyes set a little too firmly on her and not the elk. “You’re back! And I see you’ve brought a friend.” </p>
<p>“It was a good trip.” Small talk; daunting. Byleth looks around, waiting to catch a glimpse of gold but not finding it. “Where’s Dimitri?”  </p>
<p>“In the garden. Byleth, would you, um, like a—a <em> bath </em> perhaps—” </p>
<p>“The garden,” Byleth repeats, and turns swiftly on her heel. “Thank you.” </p>
<p>And she’s off. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>She finds Dimitri nestled in a cove of winter flowers, cyclamen and snowdrop growing in bright haloes at his feet. Everything seems to bend toward him—the pine trees, the petals, even the cold wind swirling down from the mountains. </p>
<p>He turns and finds her at once, and smiles as if she’s been away for months rather than hours. “You’re back! And—” His eye widens delightedly on the elk, still slung like an afterthought over Byleth’s shoulder. “Oh, what fine work! Let me see it, please.” </p>
<p>Like a content cat, Byleth presents the elk to him by laying it at his feet. Dimitri ducks down to observe the wound—a clean, precise thing, a puncture of a single arrow and nothing more. “Incredible,” he murmurs, gently touching the elk’s side. He gives it a fond scruff behind its ear, like he would a living pet, then rises again. “You always impress me with your compassion.” </p>
<p>“Compassion?” </p>
<p>“Yes. You’re very swift. You only do exactly what’s needed, never drawing it out for the creature.” </p>
<p>Byleth gives a wan smile, though her chest glows from the praise. “You’re saying I should have been a hunter instead of a mercenary?” </p>
<p>“Well…” Dimitri looks her over, chaste but lingering in that way of his that makes Byleth very aware of the blood on her clothes, the dirt and muck. He smiles. “You certainly <em> look </em> happier.” </p>
<p>Byleth watches him as he lowers his head and pulls something out of his pocket: an ornate envelope, wax-sealed atop a pressed sprig of lavender. “I was waiting for you to return,” Dimitri says, “so we could read this together.” </p>
<p>“What is it?” </p>
<p>“I’m not sure. But it certainly looks important, doesn’t it?” </p>
<p>In answer, Byleth takes a seat on the cold ground, staring up at him as she waits. </p>
<p>Dimitri blinks. “There are….seats right here, if you’d prefer—oh, it’s all right.” He tears the seam of the envelope with perhaps a little too much force, and looks embarrassed for it as he reads over the letter. “You’re more than welcome to sit wherever you’d like, By—”   </p>
<p>He blinks once, then his eye goes wide on the parchment. His next breath is choked off, and Byleth realizes with a drop in her stomach that he’s crying.</p>
<p>She bolts to her feet, thoughts racing on a panicked thread. <em> Who’s died? Who’s been taken from us? Has another war sprung from the soil? Was it all for nothing?  </em></p>
<p>“It’s—it’s Felix and Sylvain, they—”</p>
<p>Byleth steps very close to him, her eyes unseeing on his face. </p>
<p>But then, Dimitri’s breath breaks on a wild laugh as he wipes his wet cheeks. “They’re getting <em> married </em>,” he says, incredulous. “It’s an invitation…!” </p>
<p>The relief is so palpable that Byleth doesn’t realize she’s reaching for him until they’re already embracing, Dimitri laughing close to her ear, his joyful tears wetting her collarbone. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The weeks before the wedding pass in relative calm—until the night before their departure. All day Byleth had been in the woods, firing arrows into swift-moving things and halting them instantly. By the time she returned to the castle, Dimitri had looked exhausted and in desperate need of a break. </p>
<p>And now, still in her soiled hunters’ garb, she obliges. It’s a colder night than usual, and the air is electric with an energy that has Byleth’s hackles raised, in wait for something to happen. But what? She can’t tell, and if Dimitri notices it as well, he isn’t saying a word. To escape both the dullness of the castle and the cold outdoors, the two of them shuffle into Byleth’s quarters—a small shack a few yards from the garden, refurbished from a storage shed into a miniature home fit for a former wanderer who’d accidentally put down roots. </p>
<p>It hadn’t been the expected outcome, staying here. When the last ashes of the war had settled in a fine mist across Fodlan, new life slowly blooming from the wreckage like reaching hands, Byleth had sat with Seteth in the courtyard and said, “I am overwhelmed.” </p>
<p>He’d looked sagely at her, not even blinking at the admission. “A familiar feeling. How sad that even with the war at its end, we still cannot find the time to breathe.” </p>
<p>“I can’t do it,” Byleth murmured, staring hard at the table instead into Seteth’s discerning eyes. “Why Rhea elected me to take her place...is beyond me.” </p>
<p>Seteth’s face had gone somber and strange at that, like biting back a secret; Byleth was too exhausted to push him on it, and let the moment pass without complaint. “Everyone thought I was so obtuse for not understanding your immediate position as professor,” he said, though not unkindly. A fond smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Now here you are balking at your expectations, and to <em> me </em> of all people.” </p>
<p>“But I understood you even back then. That’s why I come to you now.” </p>
<p>Seteth watched her carefully, his long fingers curling along his jaw in that prim way that Flayn was learning to mirror. When Byleth was silent, he settled back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. “There is another reason,” he said gently.</p>
<p>“Yes. I…” </p>
<p>While she tried to catch the right words, the sun cast a rose-gold glow onto Seteth’s shoulders, draping there like a saint’s cape. </p>
<p>“And what will you do?” Seteth asked, finishing her question for her with a tilt of his head. “Will you leave? Go back to your mercenary work?” Seteth turns his eyes to the sky, idly watching the birds. “I would certainly hope not. You have someone here who cares dearly for you.” </p>
<p>Something rose up in Byleth’s chest—a defensiveness, somehow, some foolish and hardy feeling she wasn’t accustomed to. “Dimitri will soon be king. I’m not necessary in this place.” </p>
<p>Seteth, for all his usual grace, snorted. </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Oh, Byleth.” </p>
<p>“He’ll have his own responsibilities,” Byleth retorted, sharper than intended, but it glanced off of Seteth without a scratch. “If I’m not to fulfill what Rhea wants of me, then I…” </p>
<p>She trailed off, staring at her hands. Seteth’s gaze cut right through her; she wished she were invisible, featureless. </p>
<p>“We’ll speak on this later,” Seteth said softly. “All right?” </p>
<p>Byleth nodded, her knuckles white in her lap. </p>
<p>“Stay here with Dimitri for a while.” Seteth rose to his feet, and offered a hand to assist her. “I’m sure he would appreciate the company.” </p>
<p>And now, unlocking the little door that Dimitri has to duck under to avoid smacking his forehead on the frame, she’s glad she did exactly that. </p>
<p>“I wish you’d let me furnish one of the rooms in the castle for you,” Dimitri says, mournful. “How do you get by in such a small space?” </p>
<p>“Just fine, actually.” Byleth shuffles past Dimitri’s hulking frame over to the wood stove to light a fire. “You forget I lived like this before I came to the monastery.” </p>
<p>“I suppose…” </p>
<p>The stove lights, and Byleth crouches before it to warm her hands for a few moments before rising to her feet and shrugging off her soiled coat. “I smell terrible,” she murmurs.</p>
<p>“I haven’t noticed.” </p>
<p>Byleth gives him a disbelieving look, but he just smiles politely at her, standing by the door with his hands clasped before him. She huffs out a quiet laugh and turns back to the wood stove. “How long is the journey to the wedding again?” </p>
<p>“About three days if we hurry. Hm...five or so if we take our time. Either way we’ll get there before the ceremony and have time to see the area, catch up with everyone.” </p>
<p>Byleth muses on that as her fingers thaw. “What do you suppose your guards will prefer we do?” </p>
<p>When Dimitri doesn’t respond, she turns her head to find him bashful and pensive. “I wonder how necessary that is. Having guards accompany us, I mean.” </p>
<p>A silence falls between them. Byleth opens her mouth, closes it. </p>
<p>“Look at us,” Dimitri says with a half-laugh. “I’d say we’ve more than proven we can handle ourselves, yes? And Dedue will likely be traveling with Ashe, given their recent developments.”</p>
<p>Byleth has held her hands too close to the fire; she hisses and pulls them away, shaking them off on the chilly air. There’s a look on Dimitri’s face that she recognizes from years ago, lit with that same hopeful apprehension that had shone in his eyes when he talked about forevers atop the goddess tower. They were so young then. So unstained. </p>
<p>“A silly idea,” he says. “Perhaps I’m feeling cooped.” </p>
<p>But Byleth shakes her head, something warming her face—upon quick investigation, it’s a smile.  </p>
<p>Dimitri’s eyes widen. “Oh. A good idea? It’s a good idea.” </p>
<p>Byleth nods. </p>
<p>“It’s a good idea! She likes it!” With an enormous sigh, Dimitri doubles over with a relief that seems to make his whole body sag. “Thank the goddess. I was so afraid you’d find it...inappropriate.” </p>
<p>“Why would it be inappropriate?” </p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Dimitri says, but Byleth doesn’t believe him as she starts unlacing her hunting boots, her eyes fixed intently on him. “We’ve never traveled with just the two of us, have we? We’ve always had our merry band in tow.” </p>
<p>“In that case,” says Byleth, pulling her sweater off over her head, “we should take our time.” </p>
<p>Through her static-mussed hair, she spots Dimitri suddenly looking like a fish caught on a line, his mouth open as he hastily turns. “I’m sorry—”</p>
<p>“For what?” </p>
<p>“I can go if I’m keeping you.” </p>
<p>“Keeping me?” She shivers in her flimsy undershirt as she dips a rag into the pot of water. “No, I want to go over our plans. We’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t we?”</p>
<p> “Yes! Yes, we are. Of course.”</p>
<p>Byleth furrows her brow at the strange quality his voice has taken on, like a balloon with all the air sucked out of it. She watches him keenly as she starts wiping down her arms with the wet rag. “So. Supplies.” </p>
<p>“Yes.” Dimitri fiddles with the sleeve of his black wool coat, still turned away from her. “We should have everything we need in storage. I’ll take a look tonight if you’d like to join me.”</p>
<p>Byleth hums an approving sound, and lets her hair down out of its bun at the nape of her neck.</p>
<p>“Um—or I can just ask the maids to take a look if you’re busy. Either way.” </p>
<p>“I’ll come with you.” </p>
<p>Dimitri gives a quick nod. “All right. Good.” </p>
<p>When neither of them speak for a long time, only the sound of dripping water filling the silence, Byleth sighs. “Dimitri.”</p>
<p>“Mhm?”</p>
<p>But she can’t put the thought to its proper words. Frustrated, she frowns and goes back to wiping down, laving the rag under her breasts and down her stomach. “Horses,” she says.</p>
<p>“Pardon?”</p>
<p>“We’ll need horses.” </p>
<p>“Right—right you are.”</p>
<p>Byleth makes quick work out of stripping her leggings and undershirt, then drops the rag into the bucket with frustration. She stares at Dimitri’s back, his broad shoulders. <em> Why won’t you look at me? Isn’t the war over?  </em></p>
<p>“Let’s discuss this more after dinner, yes?”</p>
<p>Byleth gives a noncommittal hum and walks over to her bureau. She pulls out a fresh nightgown, a plain gray thing but comfortable and as practical as the rest of her. Pulling it on, she murmurs, “I’ll take dinner here instead of the hall.”  </p>
<p>“Oh? Would you like some company?”</p>
<p>At the familiar hope returning to his voice, the chill in Byleth’s chest melts over, and she smiles. “Yes. I’d like that.” </p>
<p>“You really enjoy my ideas today,” Dimitri says, bright and quiet as he glances over his shoulder at her. “Until then.” </p>
<p>And he slips out into the cold. Byleth stares at the warm space he occupied and, missing it, silently pulls a blanket around her shoulders.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He returns an hour later, coming down the snow-dusted trail with a satchel tucked under his arm. Byleth watches him from her cross-legged seat atop the shed roof—her favorite spot lately, accessible with an easy ascent of the tree by the window. </p>
<p>When Dimitri doesn’t spot her, peeking in the window with a call of her name, Byleth tips some snow from the edge of the roof with the toe of her boot until it lands softly upon his head. Dimitri gives a feeble little cry before shaking it out of his hair and looking up to find her. “Oh! Hello. You’re like a little cat.” </p>
<p>Byleth smiles and hops down from the roof, landing before him in her heavy coat and nightgown. “What have you got here?” </p>
<p>Before he can answer, she begins pawing at the satchel slung over his shoulder, eager to see what’s inside. Dimitri laughs and lets her. “You wouldn’t have liked what was for dinner tonight,” he says. “But I couldn’t have you go hungry.” </p>
<p>Byleth smiles up at him. “Let’s go for a walk,” she murmurs, pulling a whole cabbage out of the bag and biting into it like an apple. </p>
<p>Dimitri balks at her as she turns away to start strolling. “I—I was going to make something for you with that, not have you eat it raw…!” </p>
<p>“This is fine,” Byleth says, mouth full as a stray piece shoots out onto the snow. </p>
<p>Dimitri sighs before he catches up to her and walks at her side. “Where would you like to walk?” </p>
<p>“Anywhere. I feel restless.” </p>
<p>“You lead the way.” </p>
<p>They fall into a content silence as Byleth decides on the bridge overlooking the long indigo stretch of lake, glinting and silvery with frost. Dimitri leans his elbows on the banister and looks out upon the water, the dark line of trees in the distance. He sends her a quick look and a smile. “You chose well.” </p>
<p>Byleth is thinking about the way his coat collar sits at his throat. It’s time to say something. “I miss the ducks.” </p>
<p>“Don’t worry. They’ll come back.” </p>
<p>So earnest, even after such a silly statement. It’s so like him that Byleth has to smile to herself, secretly, tucked away in the dark and the cold of the night at his side. </p>
<p>A silence passes. Then, like an afterthought, Dimitri says, “So. A wedding.” </p>
<p>Byleth says nothing, just watches him work his thoughts out into a straight line. </p>
<p>“I haven’t been to a wedding since…gods, I don’t even recall when. I won’t know how to act.” </p>
<p>“Happy?” Byleth offers.</p>
<p>Dimitri smiles. “Yes. Good suggestion, friend.” </p>
<p>A brisk wind blows down from the mountains, and they subconsciously move closer to each other, as they always have when anything cold or sharp comes between them.</p>
<p>“I feel a strange sorrow,” Dimitri murmurs. “I can’t explain it. Almost...a sadness in that things will change from here.” He turns to her. “Is that selfish of me?” </p>
<p>Byleth mulls that over. Yes—she feels that sadness too, nestled somewhere behind her sternum, an uncomfortable place. It’s the same feeling from before, on the balcony with Seteth, throwing Rhea’s wishes into the sunlight to land on his shoulders instead. “Selfish doesn’t always mean bad.” </p>
<p>“That’s a very Byleth answer,” Dimitri replies, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Perhaps you’re right. I suppose it’s not unforgivable, simply feeling something.” He’s quiet for a while, and his eyes are soft on the water, nostalgic. “Felix will be an interesting display. Having to be vulnerable in front of an audience. I can hardly wait to see it.” </p>
<p>They share a small, quiet laugh, little more than an exhale. Byleth can feel the heat of his arm brushing against her shoulder, and she leans into it just barely, keeping her hands resolutely clasped before her. </p>
<p>“I remember when we were very young,” Dimitri starts, “we held a fake wedding. Felix and I fought over—” He breaks off, huffing out a laugh. “Oh, nevermind, this is embarrassing.”  </p>
<p>Byleth looks up at him, eager. “No. Tell me, please.” </p>
<p>Dimitri rubs a gloved hand down his face, grinning in a self-conscious way that makes Byleth’s stomach feel tight and warm. “Felix and I fought over who would marry Sylvain,” he says at last, still laughing. “So Ingrid said, ‘Why don’t all three of you just marry each other?’ And that seemed to solve the problem.” </p>
<p>A laugh bubbles up inside her, and breaks on the air louder than Byleth expects, startling her.</p>
<p>“So the three of us held hands, and we said some silly little prayer, Ingrid dumped flower petals on our heads, and that was that! We were married.” </p>
<p>“Will you walk down the aisle with them at the wedding?” </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t that be a sight! No, I think I’ll stay in the audience for this one.” </p>
<p>They laugh, standing very close. </p>
<p>Somewhere, a bird calls a lonely cry before meeting back up with its flock. </p>
<p>“A lot of things are changing,” Dimitri says out of nowhere. Then, “I hope our trip goes well.” </p>
<p>“Are you nervous?” </p>
<p>A beat. “No. But I am looking forward to it.” Then Dimitri blinks, looks down at his arm. “Oh. Your hand.” </p>
<p>Byleth follows his gaze. When did her hand land on the crook of his arm, settling there like it belongs nowhere else? She looks back up at him, and when her eyes meet his, something is there. </p>
<p>“Are you?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Am I…?” </p>
<p>“Are you nervous?” </p>
<p>Byleth stares at him, barely breathing. His silhouette seems to shiver. She can see his throat bob in a swallow, his eye wide and waiting. </p>
<p>Yes, this is a feeling she remembers—the same giddiness in her ribs from Seteth’s talk, the thrill of making a choice.</p>
<p>“No,” she says, and leans up to kiss him. </p>
<p>It seems like he’s already there, mouth open, his silhouette bearing down on her in the darkness. <em> All you were waiting for was permission: </em>a wild thought that flits through Byleth’s mind as she leans up on her tiptoes to press her mouth harder against his, her head spinning, the bridge melting away beneath her until she floats. </p>
<p>Dimitri’s breath is hot against her lips when they break away. Her hands cup his face blindly, and his sigh is a ragged thing when he leans into the touch and, with all the clumsiness of someone who’s never done this before, finds her mouth again. </p>
<p>She’s falling into him. When another cold wind blows over the lake, the shield of his body keeps it from chilling her, and then the fierce warmth of his arms as they wrap fully around her back to pull her close. She grips at the front of his coat, pulling at it until she can feel the slate of his chest beneath. His heart hammers under her palms as his mouth goes slack with a whimper, the sound of it small and lost and <em> wanting </em>. </p>
<p><em> If we don’t stop now, </em> Byleth thinks as she pushes him up against the banister, crushing her weight against his, <em> we never will.  </em></p>
<p>The thought seems to reverberate in the barely-there space between their bodies, and Dimitri breaks the kiss with a gasp, the sound harsh after their heated silence. Byleth cups his face and peers up at him as he tries to turn his head; for a moment, he leans in like he might kiss her again, but drops his forehead onto her shoulder as he fights to catch his breath.</p>
<p>Again comes the lonely cry of a bird in the distance. Another cold mountain wind.</p>
<p>“Byleth,” he whispers, shoulders heaving. “We…we can’t—” </p>
<p>But his arms are still looped tightly around her; her coat and nightgown are clenched in his shaking fists. Byleth squeezes her eyes shut to hold onto the feeling. Her whole body aches—she can feel a heat below her belly, her nipples hard beneath her nightgown, her toes curled in her boots.</p>
<p>There’s something else too: a feeling of free-falling, the same sense of being petrified that had overtaken her in the hours after speaking with Seteth. <em> I made a choice. I made a choice. What now?  </em></p>
<p>Dimitri exhales into her hair. The heat of his breath sends a shiver through Byleth’s chest—almost like a heartbeat. “Oh, gods,” he whispers. “If we—” </p>
<p>But he stops himself. Byleth grips him tighter, fierce enough to hurt anyone else; but not him. She finds her voice, and it’s hoarse and dark. “The war is over. Why haven’t you…?” </p>
<p>
  <em> Why haven’t you come to me?  </em>
</p>
<p>Dimitri breathes hard through his nose. When Byleth looks up at him, she finds his eye shut, his lips pressed in a firm line—oh, his body seething with something that threatens to come out at any moment. She wishes it would. What she wouldn’t give for it. </p>
<p>“We leave tomorrow,” he says, his voice strained. “Can we—please, can we wait until then? To talk about this?” His hands flex in their grip of Byleth’s coat. He could rip it if he wanted to; Byleth dizzily wonders if he does. “We can be alone then.” </p>
<p>“We’re alone now.” </p>
<p>But there’s something vulnerable about him now, evident in how he dips his head low and his hands shake in their hold of her. “Please,” he says. “I’m…” </p>
<p>When he trails off, Byleth coaxes him to lift his head with a touch just under his chin. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “that I've kept you waiting so long.” </p>
<p>Byleth’s breath catches. Dimitri opens his eye to look at her, then drops his gaze in embarrassment. </p>
<p>But it’s what she needed to hear, and it will sustain her—it will have to. </p>
<p>“Okay,” she whispers. “Tomorrow...we talk.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the first day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you guys for such kind comments!! </p><p>a quick tw for this chapter: i briefly allude to dimitri having a history self-harming. the line that comes before that paragraph detailing it is this: " “Gods,” Dimitri breathes out, covering his face. “I didn’t.” </p><p>i hope you guys enjoy this update! i talk about this fic a lot on my twitter @ priorviolets ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>ii. the first day</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After the hell that is gathering supplies—with two helpers assisting, at least, so they aren’t confronted with being alone—Byleth lies alone in her single bed, staring at the ceiling.</p><p>Her mouth burns from kissing him. An uncomfortable feeling wells in her chest, and she examines it with surgical precision: a feeling that says <em> this is my body after all. </em> Yes, <em> her </em> body. The phantom feeling of operating something that belongs to someone else is gone, and in its absence, there’s a hyper-awareness of the ache that Dimitri had left behind. Every pang and shiver, every wish for him to be here; it belongs to her.</p><p>Lying flat on her back beneath her many blankets, she imagines how it could have gone. </p><p>And like a heated vision, it plays out behind her eyes. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dimitri’s mouth stays open and hot, doesn’t pull away for breath, doesn’t <em> stop </em>. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know where to touch first—cupping her face, threading through her hair, then down to her chest to pull open the cross-ties of her nightgown until they’re loose enough to free her breasts. </p><p>(And in the chilly quiet of her room, her hands become his own as she yanks at those same ties, her palm mimicking the heat that his would have as she clutches desperately at herself, thumb rolling brutally over her nipple.) </p><p>“Byleth,” he says on a groan, panting into her ear as his hands, huge and hungry, grope blindly at her chest. “Gods, you’re beautiful…” </p><p>But it’s too long without his mouth on her, and Byleth pulls at his hair to guide his face down until his tongue finds her nipple, his lips closing around it and <em> pulling</em>— </p><p>(Damn him, <em> damn </em> him, she can’t mimic this, the soft wetness of his tongue, the eager mouth sucking at her—)</p><p>Gasping up at the cold sky, Byleth’s hand snakes down to pull at the front of Dimitri’s pants and slip inside. And <em> yes </em>, there he is, hard and warm in her palm like she’s always wanted him, tilting his hips with a muffled groan when her fingers wrap around his cock. Impatient, she pulls his head back up to kiss him again, and he whimpers when she catches his bottom lip with her teeth.</p><p>Through lidded eyes, she watches him shudder and hiss with each painstaking pass of her hand; when her thumb rolls deliberately over the head of his cock, Dimitri’s body seizes up against hers, and his moan is almost mournful. “Byleth—oh, yes—”   </p><p>Something snaps in Byleth’s chest. She’s hiking up her nightgown to her hips, her eyes wide on his flushed face as it dawns on them both that <em> this can’t wait another day. Tomorrow? Tomorrow? No, no, I can’t wait, not when I finally have you right here.   </em></p><p>“Fuck me,” she pleads against his open mouth before spinning around to face the banister. “Like this—please—”   </p><p>(And she’s rolling over in bed now, muffling her mouth into the pillow, her cunt wet and aching as she circles her clit with frantic fingertips.)</p><p>Dimitri’s breath is heavy at the back of her neck, his enormous frame keeping the cold from stinging her now bare legs. He fumbles to enter her (because even in these half-dreams, she keeps him as he is, earnest but uncertain in what his own body can do) and Byleth reaches back to guide him, taking him in hand and easing him inside— </p><p>(—easing two fingers inside, then another when the stretch isn’t enough to pretend it’s him—)</p><p>“Oh, <em> Byleth</em>.” Dimitri’s voice is little more than a gust of breath at the back of Byleth’s neck. His arms wrap around her to pull her hips back against him, and she’s already there, jolting back to take him all the way to the hilt. “Oh, you feel so good...” </p><p> Byleth’s mouth drops open as she presses her cheek against the cold stone of the banister. Her hair tumbles over the edge, suspended over water. “Harder,” she hisses, and reaches behind her to grab his hand. “Dimitri, please—”   </p><p>A guttural groan is pulled from Dimitri’s chest at his next thrust; his fingers lace within hers before pinning her hand at her lower back to keep her in place for the next brutal snap of his hips. When he finds his rhythm, Byleth is left keening and weak-kneed, her body a pliant thing to be handled in his strong grip. His grunts are gruff, animal sounds huffing out hot in her ear, and his grip on her hip tightens until she can’t do anything but hang there slack and open before him, each merciless thrust bringing her that much closer to breakage— </p><p>(She comes too quickly, every time. Byleth ruts back against her fingers as her whole body tightens unbearably, then dives over itself, releasing on a long growl muffled into her pillow. </p><p>After, she goes still. Her body sags into the bed, sweaty and trembling under her many blankets. </p><p>He should be here. But he isn’t.) </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Morning comes slow, the sun all but creaking into the pale sky. Unable to sleep through the whole night, Byleth has been standing at their meeting point since before daybreak, mentally mapping out the different calls of birds and imagining herself as one of them. Anything to keep her mounting nerves at bay. </p><p>The first voice she hears isn’t Dimitri, but rather the same guard that greets her every day, either sneering or dull depending on the dead animal in her arms. He stops at the sight of her, out of breath, and doubles over as if stabbed. “Oh, for the love of—will you <em> please </em> tell His Highness that I was here before you to survey the supplies?” </p><p>Byleth blinks at him. “What?” </p><p>“I’m trying to get a pay raise. I can’t exactly do that when you’re constantly showing up to my own tasks before me.” </p><p>“You don’t need to be so sneaky about it. Dimitri would give you money out of his own pockets.” </p><p>“Well, not all of us can put our hands down his pockets without him raising an eyebrow. Perhaps that’s where you come in—ah, good morning, Your Highness!” </p><p>Byleth turns her head to find Dimitri approaching, his normally imposing silhouette softened by the heavy furs and dark linens he’s dressed himself in for their journey. Her stomach twists when she sees that the hood he’s wearing is none other than the timber wolf pelt she’d gifted him after the first frost had come. It hangs handsomely over his golden hair, casts a shadow over his eye for a moment until he pushes it back.</p><p>He’s looking right at Byleth, until he drops his gaze with a clearing of his throat and addresses the guard. “Good morning! Are we all set?” </p><p>“Yes, Your Highness! I’ve gone over the checklist seven times just this morning, and then another seven more. We’ve procured two horses—” </p><p>“Wait!” </p><p>Somewhere to their left, a high, shrill voice pierces the cold morning air. It’s the stablehand, a small girl with bright red hair that glistens like copper in the gathering sun. She holds the reins to a roan horse, who looks upon them all with the vague bemusement that all horses seem to possess. The guard’s face drops at the sight of it, and Byleth already knows why. </p><p>“There has been a mistake!” the girl says, and immediately drops into a bow before Dimitri, who stares down at her with a blank politeness. “Your Highness—h-hello, Miss Byleth—the village just east of here, they’ve had an outbreak of a terrible flu, and our medics had to provide them with medicine. Jerome here—” The girl nods to the guard, whose face has gone white. “—miscalculated how many they would need. I-In their rush, the medics took one more horse than we had allowed. I’m so sorry…!” </p><p>A long pause. </p><p>“I have procured,” says Jerome, miserably, “one horse.” </p><p>Byleth glances at Dimitri. There’s a shell shocked look to him, a high color to his cheeks when he meets her eyes. </p><p>“That’s all right,” Byleth says, not looking away. “We can share.” </p><p>Dimitri holds her gaze for a few tense beats before looking down at his wringed hands. “Yes!” he says tightly. “We’ll make do just fine. Please don’t worry yourselves.” </p><p>“I appreciate your goodwill, Your Highness!” The stable girl gives a gracious bow, all but tripping over her own feet. Jerome follows her lead with a mortified expression; Byleth half-expects him to fall over dead at any moment. </p><p>As the saddle bags are loaded up onto the horse’s back, Byleth strokes the horse’s nose and watches Dimitri’s guarded face. The color hasn’t left his cheeks. Vaguely she wonders if this is another thing of his, to feel overcome at the prospect of riding a horse with someone—she imagines a Faerghus custom of only sharing horses after marriage, and laughs quietly to herself.</p><p>“You’re in a good mood,” he says softly, strapping the last bag to the horse’s back. His smile is a bashful curve, just barely there at the corner of his mouth. </p><p>Byleth scratches behind the horse’s ear to keep her hands busy; Dimitri looks soft dressed like this, and she imagines his warmth if she were to hold him. “I am. Are you?” </p><p>Instead of answering, he gives a strange titter of a laugh, reminiscent of their academy days before he’d grown into himself. “He’s practically in love with you,” he says, nodding to the horse before moving around to its other side and climbing on. “Are we off?” </p><p>Byleth nods, suddenly feeling too hot in her hunters’ garb. Dimitri doesn’t meet her eye when he offers a hand down to her, and she accepts, stepping up into the stirrup and swinging her leg over the horse’s back. </p><p>Right away, she can tell this is perilous. Dimitri’s chest is warm against her back, and his arms could encircle her entirely if he wanted; when he takes hold of the reins, his hands almost rest in her lap before he clears his throat and holds them off to the side. “Are you comfortable?” he asks. </p><p>“Very,” Byleth says, and means it. </p><p>Dimitri is silent.</p><p>They wave their goodbyes, the little stable girl gawking blushingly at the two of them as if they were a couple in a book she adores—and then they’re galloping off towards the rosy sunrise. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They don’t seem truly alone until the castle is far from view. But as soon as the scenery becomes a sprawl of pine trees and mountains, all the stone and spires long gone, the tension is immediate. </p><p>A new silence falls between them as they cross a small bridge arcing over a stream. </p><p>Finally Byleth speaks. “You’re very quiet.” </p><p>“So are you.” </p><p>The softness of his voice sends a strange shiver through her shoulders; it’s different now, after last night’s daydream, hearing him from behind. </p><p>“Are you sure you’re comfortable like this?” Dimitri asks, sounding smaller than he is. “This isn’t exactly what we had in mind, after all.” </p><p>“Yes.” Byleth sinks a little back against his chest, her face half-hidden in her thick gray scarf. “You’re very warm,” she murmurs. “Like an animal.” </p><p>Dimitri’s next inhale shakes around the edges; it’s unmistakable with them being so close. </p><p>“Is that the pelt I gave you?” she asks, knowing the answer. </p><p>“Ah—yes. Though I disrespected it by trying my hand at sewing.” </p><p>“What do you mean? It looks nice.” </p><p>“Oh,” Dimitri says, with another high laugh. “Is that so.” </p><p>“It is so.” </p><p>Byleth looks over her shoulder at him and finds his face pink, his eyepatch sitting crookedly over his ruined eye. Without thinking, she reaches up and touches it back into place, hiding the grisly scar that has long since fused the lid fully shut. </p><p>Dimitri gasps and bows his head, and the horse makes a chuffing sound as if embarrassed by the two of them. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize it was…” </p><p>“You don’t have to hide it. Least of all around me.” </p><p>Dimitri clears his throat, but says nothing. </p><p>Byleth turns back around, her eyes on the long path ahead that passes between two vast, white-blue mountains. “Did you sleep well last night?” she asks quietly. </p><p>A pause; she can feel how Dimitri hesitates as though he might lie, but he finally admits, “No. I didn’t.” </p><p>Relief. “Me neither.” </p><p>“Would you like to sleep?” </p><p>“I’d fall off the horse.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Dimitri says, laughing. “Do you really have so little faith in me?” </p><p>Byleth bows her head and smiles, a secret little curve hidden behind her scarf. She settles back in the saddle and rests her head against Dimitri’s chest; he smells good, like winter woods and leather warmed by his skin. Something comes over her, and she takes his arm and wraps it around her stomach to keep her stable as the horse trots along. “All right,” she says with a yawn, closing her eyes. “Goodnight…” </p><p>His arm is stiff as if afraid to touch her, but after a few beats, he seems to relax enough to let it go slack and easy around her middle. For just a moment, she feels him lower his head to brush his mouth just barely against the crown of her hair—and then it’s gone, the touch vanishing as if it had never happened.   </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know how long she’s asleep, but Dimitri’s voice in her ear rouses her from a half-dream about ducks ice skating. </p><p>“Byleth,” he murmurs. “We can stop here if you’d like.” </p><p>She opens her bleary eyes and rubs the sleep out of them, looking around. They’re higher up now, having climbed a path through the mountainside while she dozed. The trees are thicker here, a canopy of pine making the sky hang heavy and green, but they’ve come to a grass clearing beside a stream rippling with frost. It’s quiet here, the only sounds that of running water and the occasional birdsong. </p><p>“What do you think?” Dimitri asks, watching her pensively. </p><p>She smiles over her shoulder. “It looks perfect. Good job, Dimitri.” </p><p>There it is—that pleased blush spreading across his cheeks, the simple joy of being praised.</p><p>They dismount and remove their saddlebags, and their horse seems relieved for the break as it immediately begins wandering around the new campsite. The two make quick work out of setting up the fur tent; neither remark on the limited space for each of their bedrolls, or how they’d subconsciously only packed one tent for the two of them. </p><p>Outside the tent, the horse is radiant and sleek, pleased with itself in its solitude; out of nowhere, Byleth thinks of Marianne, her downturned eyes and elegant neck. She will have to write her a letter soon...</p><p>She can feel Dimitri’s eyes on her, but when she looks at him, he seems to be acting much busier than he truly is as he rifles through the saddlebags in search of something. He empties one onto the grass, and various food things and herb sachets tumble out. </p><p>Byleth eyes him fondly. “Counting apples, are we?” </p><p>Dimitri gives a self-aggrandizing smile. “My apologies. I’m trying to keep my hands busy.” </p><p>Byleth smiles. “From what?” </p><p>“I—nothing in particular.” </p><p><em> You’re a bad liar, </em>she thinks as she pulls off her hood and scarf and sits down on her bedroll. She stares out of the tent at the stream, the sound of the water soothing the nerves that suddenly have her on edge. “Dimitri,” she says softly. “We need to talk.” </p><p>Dimitri begins refilling the bag one item at a time, hyperfocusing on each one. “Ah.” </p><p>“Don’t you agree?” </p><p>She watches his face carefully as he mulls it over in silence. Finally, he takes a breath and holds it, staring at her with his mouth open. Something flashes through his eyes, and he bows his head at once. </p><p>Byleth’s stomach sinks. “You’re ashamed. Of what happened.” </p><p>“No,” Dimitri says right away, looking at her pleadingly. “No, Byleth. Not at all.”</p><p>“Then what…?” </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Dimitri stows away the last of the items in the bag and sets it in his lap, fiddling with the drawstring with skittish fingers. A long silence passes before he finally speaks. “I meant what I said...about keeping you waiting for so long. My regrets...” </p><p>One thousand thoughts race through Byleth’s mind, but she tamps them down and stays silent, letting him speak before he closes up again. </p><p>“But it all felt as if it was over before it even started,” he goes on, breathless, his restless hands twisting at the drawstring until the string begins to fray. “Even when I’d wondered if we…” He shakes his head, suddenly embarrassed; Byleth sees it well up inside him, shrinking him. “If we ever <em> could </em>, but...the war came, and you vanished for five years, everything was in disarray, and I—”  </p><p>The string in his hands splits in half, unraveling. He looks down at it as if he’s forgotten it was in his hands at all. </p><p>“I became something,” he says, “no one could ever want. And that something, it’s still in me, even now after all this time. It never goes away.” </p><p>The urge to touch him is too much to contain. Byleth scoots closer to him, and her hand cups lightly over his jaw. She can tell the way he leans into the touch is subconscious, even as that same guilt flashes behind his eye and flushes his face. </p><p>“I know who you are,” she murmurs. “Do you know me?” </p><p>His gaze sweeps over her hair—the last remnant of Sothis, the proof that She swims in her blood like a ghost shark. “Yes. I do.” </p><p>A long silence falls between them, only the sound of the stream breaking the tension. </p><p>Dimitri breathes out a laugh. “Besides all that, I...I haven’t even courted you. I haven’t done any of this right.” </p><p>“We’ve almost died together. I’d say that counts more.” </p><p>Dimitri wipes his hand down his face and shakes his head. “Your words make sense, they do. But...if you’d grown up in Faerghus, you’d understand the gravity of what I’m saying.” </p><p>“Then make me understand.” </p><p>He stares at her, his eye bright and searching on her face. He sighs and bows his head. “We were taught to go about things in a very...<em> specific </em> fashion, very proper. First you court someone, then you meet their family, you receive their blessing, <em> then </em> you’re wedded, and only then do you—” He stops suddenly, and gives a vague wave of his hand to fill in the blanks. “That’s just how it was done.” </p><p>Byleth gives him a disbelieving look. “Do you think that’s what Sylvain and Felix did?” </p><p>Dimitri’s cheeks flush a deep red. “I—I can’t say I’ve given it that much thought.”  </p><p>“I can tell you with certainty. It wasn’t.” </p><p>“Byleth—” </p><p>“Are you afraid I’ll ruin your reputation?” She doesn’t realize she’s hurt until the words come out sharper than intended, her breath thin in her chest. “That I’ll sully you if I bring you to bed?” </p><p>Dimitri’s eye goes wide on her; then a look of deep shame crosses him, and he bows his head in repentance. “I’ve offended you. I’ve...said the opposite of what I meant.” </p><p>“Then what did you mean?” </p><p>Wringing his hands, Dimitri lets out a slow breath and lifts his head. “It’s unfair, Byleth. The whole ideology, the need to do things so <em> clean, </em> it hurts exactly one person. And it’s not me, it’s—rather, it’d be <em> you </em>. And if...if anyone ever shamed you for something you chose to do, I…” His knuckles go white for a moment, as if imagining strangling a wicked throat. “I think we both know what I’d be capable of doing. And it should frighten both of us.” </p><p>Byleth fights to control her breathing. She closes her eyes and listens to the stream outside the tent, the steady, uncomplicated flow of water moving where it must. It calms her enough to speak. “Do you even believe in any of what Faerghus taught you?” </p><p>It takes a moment, but finally Dimitri says, “No. I’ve long since stopped believing in any of it.” </p><p>Byleth’s palms start to sweat. Adrenaline wells up behind her ribs, down her arms, through her legs until it settles in her belly, making her quiver all over. </p><p>“There’s a lot about Faerghus,” Dimitri says, his voice suddenly distant, “that I don’t agree with.”</p><p>Something passes behind Dimitri’s eye, a dark confusion that she recognizes right away and pulls her out of her longing—the sense of him going away, drifting off into a shadowy place normally kept at bay within these past few months. </p><p>Byleth leans forward, lowers her voice. “Did you take your medicine this morning?” </p><p> “Gods,” Dimitri breathes out, covering his face. “I didn’t.” </p><p>Immediately, Byleth sits up and looks through the saddlebag with the sachets; and there it is, the bag of his herbs that keeps the dark things away—his thoughts of sleeping in rivers, the marks on his arms from multiplying, the mania that keeps him awake for days. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dimitri mutters. “I was...distracted.” </p><p>It only takes one look to tell him not to apologize, and he responds with a defeated smile. Byleth makes careful work out of dosing the small blue flowers into a tin, then procuring a waterskin and a small wooden cup. The flowers bloom and dissolve into the water, turning it a deep blue. Dimitri accepts the cup graciously and drinks it down. </p><p>“It’ll kick in soon,” Byleth says, sitting cross-legged beside him and watching the sky. It’s already approaching evening, shadows casting long against the mountain range; she really did sleep for a while. </p><p>“You are very good to me.” </p><p>Dimitri’s soft voice pulls her attention back to him. There’s a sadness in him, his expression heavy as he tries to smile. A vulnerability comes over her that prickles against her skin like sunburn, but it’s not the right time. She stands up to grab her bow. “Want to watch me hunt?” she asks him, slinging her quiver over her shoulder. “I can find a deer. Or a bird. Three birds.” </p><p>That pulls a real smile out of him. “Whatever you’d like.” </p><p>She ducks out of the tent and scans the sky, the trees. She can feel Dimitri’s eyes on her as she stalks out a shift in the air, the vaguest sense of energy flaring somewhere close by—and there it is, an easy shot over her shoulder at a swift-moving hare darting by a tree. </p><p>Dimitri gasps from behind her. “Byleth! That was…!” </p><p>She turns to him, glowing with pride in her muted, owl-eyed way.</p><p>“You’re magnificent! Have you always been this skilled with a bow?” </p><p>Byleth shakes her head, a strange bashfulness coming over her. How to put this to words? “I want a change of pace. After the war.” </p><p>Dimitri seems to understand without elaboration—after all, once his shoulder had healed, he had been there with her when she stowed her sword in an empty vault, sealed it with a murmured enchantment, and walked away from it without a word. Edelgard’s blood, warped into something Byleth couldn’t recognize, had never truly washed out. </p><p>“Ashe had a little to do with it,” she adds, when the silence goes on too long. “This was his old bow.” </p><p>“It suits you well.”</p><p>His gaze is warm again; he must be feeling calmer. It lingers, like he might say something else, but he turns away to rummage through the food bags for something to eat. Byleth refocuses, and shoots an arrow into a pine tree with such force that the trunk almost splits. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When the moon rises, the sky is a dark, clear crystal, the stars hanging high and white. Byleth watches them, the last of her arrows gathered back into her quiver. </p><p>Dimitri appears at her side. “Ah. There’s Loog.” </p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>He points up at a string of stars. “Right there. Do you see his helm? And there’s his lance, pointed straight ahead of him.”</p><p>But Byleth can only look at him, the way his throat is exposed to the night, his long hair bundled in a sloppy knot at the base of his neck. It’s grown longer these past few months, curling at the ends when he wears it loose. </p><p>She wants to touch it. Without thinking, she reaches up and pulls the tie that holds it back, and it tumbles down like gold. He gives a small, confused sound and catches her inner wrist with his fingertips. “What are you doing?” he laughs out. </p><p>But Byleth doesn’t respond. She stares up at him, her face as serious as stone.</p><p>He holds her gaze. “It’s cold out here,” he says softly, then turns to duck back into the tent. </p><p>Byleth follows him, leaving the stars behind. </p><p>He’s already laid out their many fur blankets, and she smiles when she sees he’s given her an extra pillow. He’s in the corner of the tent, casting off his cloak and pulling out his nightclothes from his bag. It’s a strangely intimate sight, and Byleth lets herself watch as he pulls his tunic up up his back and over his head. Heat thrums between her hips, and she looks away. “I wonder when Dedue and Ashe will head out,” she muses. </p><p>When Dimitri doesn’t immediately reply, she looks over her shoulder to find him still shirtless, the planes of his shoulder blades moving like a lion’s under his skin as he reaches for a clean shirt. Her eyes sweep over the long scar along his spine, how his waist tapers leaner than she’d expected. </p><p>She has seen him like this before, countless times after battle or in the infirmary being patched up. But it’s different now. There is no fight, no injury. Only each other and the sound of the wind swirling down from the mountains. </p><p>“Do you think they’ll need as much time as us?” she asks. “Or did they have a head start?” </p><p>The double meaning is clear. She hears his breathing pick up for a moment; it’s hard to hide anything in this limited space. She hopes he knows that.</p><p>“I think the latter,” he finally admits.</p><p>Byleth nods. “I think you’re right.” </p><p>He isn’t putting his shirt on; his fingers play with the hem, running the black fabric through his palm as if lost in thought. Byleth mentally compares the golden hair parting at the nape of his neck to a canyon, something made for crossing. </p><p>She undresses quietly, slipping on the same gray nightgown from last night—a deliberate choice. “Dimitri.” </p><p>Finally he turns to look at her. He isn’t wearing his eyepatch, the mottled scar in plain view of the lantern light. His eye goes wide, sweeping down over the familiar soft wool as she approaches him. His shyness gets the best of him, and he exhales hard and sharp as Byleth kneels before him—but he’s leaning into her touch now when she cards her fingers through his hair, pushes it out of his face so she can see all of him. </p><p>One quick look down at his lap tells her what he’s hiding—he’s hard, already, without so much as a single touch. Shame radiates off of him in waves.</p><p>“It’s all right,” she murmurs, his face burning beneath her palms. “Dimitri. It’s okay to want it.” </p><p>His breathing is shallow as he nods, and even in his embarrassment he’s leaning towards her, into her. </p><p>“Touch me,” she whispers, grabbing his hand to cup it over her breast. He exhales, and the unplanned squeeze of his hand makes Byleth’s head feel light as a cloud. She presses her forehead against his. “Do you feel me?” </p><p>“Yes,” he breathes out. </p><p>“I want you, too.” Trembling with adrenaline, she takes his other hand and guides it up under her nightgown until his palm curves over that hot, wet space that waits for him. “Do you feel how I want you?” </p><p>All that comes out of him is a lost, stunned sound, and then he’s surging up to kiss her.</p><p>By anyone else’s standards, he’s a poor kisser—no rhythm to it, too much breath and not enough tongue—but Byleth doesn’t care. His enthusiasm is unmatched, and to finally have the enormity of him now weak and vulnerable before her kicks up her pulse to a sprint as she climbs into his lap. </p><p>Dimitri seizes up with a hiss when she straddles him. She feels his cock between them, so hard it must be painful, straining up from beneath his clothes. “Sorry,” he gasps out. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“No.” A deep thrum begins stirring between Byleth’s legs; she imagines sinking down onto him, rocking him into completion, watching him melt and come apart so hot and easy inside her. <em> Not yet </em>, she wills herself, but it feels impossible. “Feel,” she says, and moves her hips to rock her wetness against his palm. </p><p>“Byleth…” His voice, only breath. “Oh, goddess…” </p><p>Her hands are skittish, excited things as she reaches down for the ties of his pants. Briefly his hand flutters up to land atop hers, and she stops. </p><p>Dimitri’s breath comes short and fast, his head bowed. Then, with a boldness that makes Byleth’s blood rush hot all over, he reaches for the hem of her nightgown and pulls it up. </p><p>“Yes,” she whispers, and yanks the useless thing up over her head until she’s bare before him. She doesn’t care if her next kiss is sloppy—she’s wanted this for too long, wanted the naked air to touch her all over, only to be warmed with his eyes and hands.  </p><p>“You’re so...” Both of Dimitri’s hands grab shakily at her breasts, and she arches into the touch, letting him breathe into her mouth at the friction between their hips when she moves. She guides him onto his back and he goes down easily, like a timbered tree. </p><p>This new closeness dizzies her, Dimitri lying beneath her with his legs spread as he waits panting for her next move. The heat of his eye sweeping over her nakedness almost burns. </p><p>“Gods, yes,” he says, his voice low and hot before he leans in and catches her nipple in his mouth. Byleth moans through her teeth, hearing his haggard breaths puffing from his nose as he all but smothers his face between her breasts. He groans out something unintelligible against her skin, something delirious, but the words themselves don’t matter—it’s the gruff sound of his voice, the animal quality it’s taken on that makes Byleth want to pull him apart. </p><p>“I can feel you,” Byleth gasps out. “How hard you are.”  </p><p>She rolls her hips so that she grinds down along the searing line of his cock, and he arches back with a shuddering breath, his hands dropping to grasp at her hips. The column of his throat is exposed to her, and bobs in a swallow; oh, wicked thoughts. </p><p>“Please.” His hand settles between her legs, and hovers there shyly for a moment before his eagerness gets the best of him. Inexperienced as he is, Byleth still sighs when his palm curves against her cunt—any contact is a blessing.  “Show me how to touch you.” </p><p>Byleth shivers at the request, and moves to roll them both over so she’s on her back. A new shyness warms Dimitri’s face at the repositioning as he gazes down at her. She’s been on her back before, in tents or shabby inn bedrooms in between cities back in her mercenary days—a man’s hand moving inside her, or a woman’s tongue lapping over her—but somehow this is different, Dimitri’s body familiar yet still so new. </p><p>“Oh,” he whispers, his gaze between her legs and the soft, pale hair there—once dark, ages ago—that spans out along her inner thighs and stomach. “I’d wondered if it changed…” </p><p>He cringes immediately at his remark, and Byleth can’t help but laugh. “Oh, so you’ve pondered this before.” </p><p>“I—I just wasn’t sure, is all.” If he gets any pinker, he might stay that way forever. “I...all right, yes, I pondered this. I admit it.” </p><p>Byleth shakes with breathy laughter before it dies down under the heat of Dimitri’s stare still fixed between her legs. She lets her thighs fall open, and feels her own wetness there when the soft lips part. Dimitri sucks in a sharp breath and looks away for a moment, overcome.</p><p>“Eyes on me,” Byleth whispers. “I know you want to watch.” </p><p>“Yes…” </p><p>Shaking, Dimitri looks back down as Byleth takes his hand and guides it down lower, two fingertips waiting before her entrance. It takes a moment to brace herself, but her body opens to him like it’s always wanted to as she presses his two fingers inside. </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>—” She arches with a gasp; there’s a fullness that her own touch couldn’t sustain, her hand too small to give her the stretch she needed. “Move, move—”  </p><p>His caution is killing her. Desperately she rocks her hips against his hand to drag his fingers in and out, and she hears how his breath chokes off hot against her collarbone, his cock straining painfully against her thigh. But finally, something gives way and he moves his hand, a slow thrust that knocks the breath out of her. </p><p>He must mistake the sound for pain, for he stops, searching her face worriedly. She gives a breathless laugh. “You’re so cautious.” </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, earnest as always. “I—you forget I’m not good at delicate things.” </p><p>Another laugh bubbles up in her; she feels giddy, like she’s had too much to drink. “What makes you think it’s delicate?”</p><p>He buries his face in her neck. “Then just...tell me if I hurt you.”</p><p>“You won’t. But I will.” </p><p>The admission seems to allay his fears—and when he moves his hand again, it’s a slow, deep curl of his fingers that has her jaw dropping, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hand drifts down to find her clit, which stands eagerly beneath her fingertips as she circles it in time with his strokes. “There you go…” </p><p>He’s watching her intently; the heat of his stare fixed between her legs could intimidate anyone else, but Byleth revels in it, wonders if he’ll snap and take her with his whole body any second. Then, the pad of his thumb gives a testing rub against her clit, and even though the angle is all wrong, the touch too rough, still Byleth’s head spins. </p><p>“A little softer,” she says, panting now as he strokes her again with a gentleness she can tell is a struggle. But he does it, glancing along her clit in a nice, long swipe that has her hips rising to meet his next touch. “Like that, oh…” </p><p>He’s a fast learner—each movement of his hand sends his thumb stroking a perfect line along her clit until it’s throbbing beneath his touch. There’s a lewd, wet sound on the air as he takes her; the force of each thrust has her grasping at his shoulders, his back, anything she can hold onto. </p><p>But she needs more. “Dimitri,” she whispers, pulling at the ties that keep his pants closed. She busies her eyes with the soft golden hair spanning down his stomach to where she wants him. “Let me see you.” </p><p>Dimitri lets out a tremulous sigh against her lips as he props himself up to give her room to yank the ties open. Her eyes go wide at what’s revealed: the sheer size of him, warm and erect, waiting for her touch. </p><p>A winded sound leaves her, and then her hand is wrapping around him with an awe as if it’s her first time. A desperate sound is choked back into Dimitri’s throat when she moves; he tilts into her touch, then goes still as he breathes hard in her ear. </p><p>When she eases him to look down at her, his eye is hazy with lust, blue and burning in a way she’s never seen before. She marvels at him up close. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, and pumps her hand along the hot length of him. </p><p>“Byleth, <em> oh </em>—” His hips jerk clumsily into her every touch. “I’m not…” Gently she rolls her thumb over the head of his cock, and he just about cries. “I’m not going to last.” </p><p>“We can do it again,” she says, simple. “That’s allowed.” </p><p>Dimitri’s resounding laugh is a hoarse lilt of a thing. She pulls him down closer until his cock is pressed against her stomach, and delights when he ruts against the soft skin there on his own, thrusting tightly under her palm. “Oh gods, that’s...” He’s delirious, his eye closed as his head falls forward. “You’re so—so good to me…” </p><p>She’s overcome. Desperate, she surges up to kiss his face, his scar, his sweat-damp forehead, the corner of his mouth as he ruts against her stomach hard enough to rock her full-bodied against the blankets. Her cunt throbs with neglect, and she reaches down to take him in hand and set him against the soft lips. Dimitri’s whole body goes rigid, and he blinks down at her in shock. “Are you sure…?” </p><p>“Move against me,” she whispers, guiding the underside of his cock to rub up against her clit. She can barely breathe from the heat. “Like this.” </p><p>He abides right away, sliding himself along her wetness with a growl deep in his chest. It hits against her clit just right, and she gasps up to the tent ceiling when he dives down to kiss messily at her throat. </p><p>He’s losing it; she can feel it in how graceless his movements become, how his breath stutters in her ear. “Byleth—I can’t—” </p><p>She pulls his hair back to make him look down at her. “Let me see it,” she whispers. “It’s okay.” </p><p>The permission is all he needs. He goes tense atop her, and crashes down with a choked-off sound as his body releases in great, shuddering waves. The sight of him coming onto her stomach, unable to hold back, is what does Byleth in—she rolls helplessly against him as she comes, latching her mouth onto his throat like a prey animal in a sudden wild need to feel his pulse. It hammers against her lips, then calms as they come down from their high.</p><p>They lie together, their limbs weak and useless in their tangle of each other. </p><p>Outside the tent, the cold wind whistles through the trees, icy enough to frost the grass. Sweat beads down Byleth’s temple. She says Dimitri’s name very softly. </p><p>He lifts his head to look down at her, awed.</p><p>“Messy,” she says, wiggling beneath him so their stomachs slip together. </p><p>“Oh—!” </p><p>She can’t help but laugh at how quickly he scrambles up onto his knees and reaches for the small towel sticking out of one of their knapsacks, but Byleth closes her fingers around it before he can and touches it against his stomach. The touch relaxes him, and he closes his eye as she gently cleans both of them up, his head lolling onto his shoulder.</p><p>In the lantern light, he looks pure gold. </p><p>“You’re good to me,” he murmurs. </p><p>“You say that so often.” </p><p>“Because it’s a true thing.” </p><p>Byleth crawls next to him and curls up on her side. A new vulnerability comes over her, lying beside him like this—she almost backs away from that feeling, like touching a raw nerve, but then Dimitri is rolling over to face her, and his stare is so warm and wanting that she stays rooted in place. </p><p>For the first time in years, she lets herself have something in its entirety. </p><p>It’s hard to remember the war is over sometimes. </p><p>“I can’t think straight,” Dimitri whispers. “My head feels so…” </p><p>Byleth waits for him to finish, but gasps when he moves in to kiss her instead. Her mouth falls open for him, and she hears him sigh in relief at the contact. His face burns beneath her palms as he ducks his face and buries it in the crook of her shoulder. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for years,” he says with a weak laugh. “Even when you weren’t there.”</p><p>She cards her fingers through his hair, listening. There are so many things she could tell him—but gods, where would she ever find the breath or the time? She’ll have to tell him by tucking her body into his, wrapping her limbs around him until they’re slotted together beneath the blankets. </p><p>They lie there in silence together.</p><p>“One more,” Dimitri whispers, and finds her mouth. </p><p>It’s so hard to stop, even when they’re both heavy with sleep. </p><p>Still, one more. One more. One more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. the second day, pt. i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To Byleth’s surprise, she wakes first. Dimitri breathes softly in the midst of a dream, his face so peaceful she almost wonders if she’s looking at someone else. His hand still rests atop her shoulder; he must have kept it there all night, since she had eventually drifted off to sleep aware of its warmth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That vulnerable feeling comes over her again—but in the stark white sunlight filtering through the tent, it’s stripped down to the bone, no shadows to soften it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath and finds her nightgown. She remembers Dimitri’s hands, their novice hunger as he squeezed and rolled at her, the sounds he had made—had she awoken fully clothed, their backs to each other, she would have thought the whole thing a dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rummaging through one of the bags for a sweater—eventually deciding to nick one of Dimitri’s, just because she can—she hears him stir at her side. Rather than open his eye, he reaches out for her, his hand landing sleepily on her waist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth gazes down at him, a new feeling making her body feel strange, on edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is new. In the past, it was all about how much she could take and how quickly she could vanish in the hours after—much like Sylvain, she’s heard, an unspoken commonality between them that would shock him if she ever opened up. Had that been a choice? She supposes. Then again, she couldn’t very well stick around when there were more places to go, more jobs to be completed, more blades to cross. The choice had already been made for her. No use sticking around for breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a tightness in her chest now, and she rubs at her sternum as she watches Dimitri settle back into sleep. Her hand drifts down to his face, and she touches gently at the scar over his missing eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had told her once, in starts and stops, of what happened. A moment’s madness, a flash of his blade, a blackness and searing pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d intended to take them both out. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I...don’t remember. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His gaze had landed foggily on his lap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t like to think about it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d taken his hand. It was summertime then, and the whole castle was flowering. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s think about something else.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Like what?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s go talk to the ducks by the bridge. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought is a sweet one, but she remains sobered at the sight of his sleeping face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This scar—a choice he had made. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth lets out a slow breath, centers herself to the present. Carefully she pulls the sweater on over her head and slips into her boots, and crawls out of the tent into the clear blue morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air isn’t as frigid as she expects, rich with the scent of running water and slow-blooming flowers. She breathes deep and tastes spring; the moons are turning away from winter, warmth coming back to the land after the brutal snow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a strange feeling, the constant sense of things being too peaceful to be real. She half-expects a shower of arrows to fall from the sky, swords flashing out of trees, the heavy rain of steel boots stomping the wildflowers flat to the earth—but nothing comes, nothing but the stream and the birds and the mundane, sweet morning rolling along.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels eyes on her, and when she turns her head, Dimitri is there: standing at the flap of the tent, his hair rumpled from sleep, wearing only his lounge pants and a blanket. He’s forgone his eyepatch, and blinks at her as if seeing her for the first time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in her stomach leaps at the sight of him. She knows this feeling well, a familiar thing whenever her gaze would land on him. But it’s different now, more immediate, jumping so high and giddy it almost makes her feel sick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning,” she says, and her breathy voice betrays the calm she’d hoped her expression would give. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri blinks at her, rubs his eye, looks at her again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knows what that look means. “I’m really here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri’s shoulders rise and fall in a huge breath. He wraps the blanket tighter around himself as he unsteadily approaches, like walking on new legs. “Hi.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallows hard, her hands going white-knuckled on the hem of the sweater she took from him. His gaze drops to it, and a pleasantly surprised look passes over his sleepy face. “Oh. That’s mine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s warm,” she says. “Smells like you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a good thing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth’s laugh is a skittish, unplanned thing bursting from her chest—one of Annette’s laughs, like that time years ago when a butterfly landed on her face and stayed there for a strange few seconds before flying off. Far too light to come from Byleth, surely, yet here it is. “Yes. It’s good.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri’s smile is thin, then slips away into that silent look of his that has her shifting on her feet, waiting for something to happen. But she opens her hands, palms out to beckon him forward, and he comes to her without question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slots in perfectly under his chin, and sighs with relief when he wraps the blanket around her back, cocooning the both of them in its warmth. He smells good, like sleep and pine and soft wool. Almost shyly, Byleth presses her ear against his sternum and finds what she’s searching for—the curious, unfamiliar sound of a beating heart.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They move about their morning routines as normally as the shyness between them allows. It’s a good tension, though, finally given a shape instead of floating around uncertainly as it had before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri keeps his gaze carefully trained away from her as she bathes in the stream, but Byleth can’t help but watch him. He looks distracted as he brushes his teeth roughly, staring off into space and leaving the toothbrush slack in his mouth for a moment before remembering what he’s doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives him his own privacy while bathing—ironic, given all she saw last night—but the moment he’s dressed again, she’s back to staring, waiting for him to act. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an unintelligible mumble, a shifting on his feet as he turns to look out at the sunrise. Seeing the long line of his throat turned to the sun, his parted mouth, stirs something in Byleth’s chest; much like the sight of him last night had, she remembers with a warm thump between her legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should eat,” she tells him. “I caught some fish from the stream. They cooked nicely.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t you forget your fishing pole?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth blinks. “I don’t need one. I did it with my hands.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri stares at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t everyone do that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look on Dimitri’s face reminds Byleth of their earlier days, when he would sit starry-eyed and eager in the front row of her lectures, jotting notes so quickly his pen would sometimes tear clean through the paper. “No,” he says, his eye wide on her, “I think that might just be you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth gives a satisfied hum, pleasantly surprised at that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s that starry look again. Dimitri looks away and clears his throat, aimlessly watching a flock of birds swoop overhead and vanish past the point of the mountain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long silence, he says, “I’m glad we arranged for extra time here. We don’t...have to head out for a while.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth keeps her voice light, watching his every expression from a distance. “What were you thinking of doing while we’re here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri opens his mouth, closes it. Clears his throat again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She won’t move until he does. He needs to work past this—he needs to approach her, tell her what he wants. And if not tell, then show. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Finally—after a half hour, in which Byleth spends whittling away at a block of wood until it resembles a bird—Dimitri is before her, his head bowed. She looks up at him and waits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Byleth,” he says softly. “I…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just the sight of him, sheepish but still so earnest, his hair still damp from the creek, sets something alight in Byleth’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri takes in a breath and meets her eyes. He hesitates before reaching for Byleth’s hand, touching just at her fingertips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This, too, is a way of telling her what he wants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth’s hand rises to settle on the flat of Dimitri’s stomach, slipping under the warm fabric to feel his skin. She hears how his breath picks up right away, like he’s already struggling, and she thinks of water gathering behind a dam until it breaks and rushes through. There’s an excited twitch between her thighs at the thought, and she steadies herself with a deep breath before tugging him down on his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He comes down easily, wide-eyed and thrown off guard, but all too eager. Byleth looks him over, admiring how the morning sun silvers his hair along the crown of his head. He looks skittish as he waits, his gaze flitting all over her face until settling in her lap—compliant, trusting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leans forward and catches his mouth with hers, shivering at the soft sound of relief it pulls from him. His hands rest uncertainly on her forearms, then lift to thread through her hair; she feels him relax when she gives an approving hum at the touch. “Good,” she murmurs out the corner of her mouth, and then he’s there again, kissing her so gently her heart could break from it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But her body needs more—already she’s tingling and warm, the heat swelling between her legs at the feel of him, the scent of him. She pulls at the buttons holding her dress closed over her chest, and the cool air skimming across her bare skin makes her shake. Dimitri pulls back just enough to speak in a low, awed voice. “Right here? Out in the open?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says. “I don’t care.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her dress slips from her shoulders. To her pleasant surprise, Dimitri’s hands find her at once, his excitement overshadowing the shyness she still feels in the lines of his body against hers. She shudders when his mouth latches onto the side of her neck, where his breath pools hot in between feverish kisses against her pulse. “Good,” she repeats, and gasps when he catches her nipple tightly between his fingers. “That’s—that’s good, yes…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s already woven her fingers through his hair when he dips his head down to kiss and suck at the swell of her breast, then her nipple that stands achingly beneath his tongue and teeth. His answering groan is muffled against her skin, and her clit throbs at the sound, her thighs parting wider. Dimitri understands, thank the heavens, and hurriedly unbuttons the rest of the fastenings down to the hem of her dress until the damned thing is little more than a blanket atop the cold rock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still isn’t used to the way he looks at her when she’s bare—if she didn’t know him better, the look would be intimidating paired with the brute strength of him, the knowledge of how easily he could pin her down and break her. But she isn’t afraid of him. She doesn’t know how to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri swallows, his whole body quivering as he buries his face against her inner thigh. There’s a wildness about him, and again Byleth thinks of the dam, hot water rushing, things breaking. “Byleth—I want…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth spreads her legs wider, already panting at what she knows he’s thinking about. “Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His relief is a twitching, eager thing. “Yes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she tells him, and pulls his face between her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri moans against her cunt as his mouth closes over her, and Byleth arches with a soundless cry at the hungry lap of his tongue. She just holds him there for a few anguished moments, letting him explore the heat of her how he wants, before he pulls away with a gasp to speak dazedly against her thigh. “Oh, goddess—Byleth—I can taste you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hard, shuddering breath falls from Byleth’s chest. The awe in his voice stuns her to silence—and then he’s diving back between her legs, his tongue laving over her in a long stroke that makes her legs shake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soft,” she pants out. She props herself up on an elbow to watch him, stroking his damp hair away from his face. “Like your hand was last night.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He listens, reverent as he looks up, and tongues over her clit again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it...” She’s dizzy, her fingers flexing in his hair until she’s white-knuckled. “Soft like that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a few tries to find the right spot, the right rhythm—guiding his head back to where she needs him, and breathy instructions that he follows to the letter—but like anything else he endeavors, he’s a fast learner. Soon Byleth is gasping up at the sky, her back arched in a tight line when his hand rises to grab roughly at her breast. She keens in approval when she feels him touch at her opening, and tilts her hips down to coax two fingers inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dimitri—” Her voice is useless, just a cry on the wind. “Take me like that, yes—”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri groans in response, and his fingers move in slow, curling thrusts as his tongue laps mercilessly over her clit. She feels possessed, images flitting through her mind with no control: she wants his cock, his entirety, the strength of his arms, wants him to pin her down and fuck into her until she forgets all language, even the ancient one that Sothis left behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she gasps out, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to keep him there. “Fuck, yes—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hoarse, aching sounds slip out of the corners of Dimitri’s mouth as she fucks herself onto his tongue and hand. She feels something snap in him, and he pins her leg down with a brutal press under her knee, spreading her open wider to him until all she can do is twist and growl until finally— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She comes with an agonized shout, her whole body throbbing into Dimitri’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her very blood seethes; it’s so good it damn near hurts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has to pull Dimitri’s head away with a breathless laugh when he keeps going. “No more, no more! Sensitive.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri breaks away with a gasp, his mouth wet, his hair sticking to his cheeks. “Sorry! I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s disarmingly gentle when he pulls his fingers out of her. He looks huge and awkward, on his knees before her and looking at her all over; his arm is twitching when he wipes the back of it along his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like when you tell me what you want,” she says, shakily pulling her dress back over her shoulders to shield her from the wind. “Can you do it for me again?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitates, but manages a nod as he idly touches her hair, the curve of her shoulder. Then his thumb grazes over her bottom lip and stays there, and Byleth knows what he’s trying to say. A deep thrill blooms in her belly, and her eyes lid up at him when she asks, “Would you have my mouth?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri’s cheeks blush red as roses when Byleth kisses the pad of his thumb. To her surprise, he presses his thumb past her lips to just barely rest on her tongue, and all the breath leaves him when she suckles lightly at it, her eyes cast demurely up at him in wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes…” Oh, he’s shaking. “I—I want your mouth.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth hums in approval, and rolls onto her side so that she’s at eye level with his stomach. “Stay there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here?” He looks down at himself, then away from the blatant strain of his erection. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm...” Her fingers play at the waistband of his pants, then pull at the ties keeping them closed. “On your knees...looking down at me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls his hips forward, and he lets her, swaying a little on unsteady knees before settling back on his heels. Byleth hums when her hands slip around to squeeze at his ass, and he gasps as if scandalized. “Byleth—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm...” Her lips trace along the clothed outline of his cock, and she feels how he shudders in her hold at another squeeze. “You got harder. You like being grabbed at.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri’s head falls forward with a soft sound when Byleth finally frees his cock. She shivers at the heat and weight of it in her hand, and watches how his mouth falls open at the touch. “Look at you,” she whispers, curling on her side to marvel up at him. “So pretty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, before he can say anything, she leans in and descends over him, taking him into her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh—</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Dimitri’s hands fly down to Byleth’s shoulders, then weave through her hair to stroke behind her ears. When she lifts her head and mouths softly at the head of his cock, he quivers as though he could weep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me how good it feels,” she breathes out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Byleth,” Dimitri all but chokes out, “you’ll kill me like this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moans when his hips tilt forward, sinking into her mouth with an urgency she knows he’s trying to keep restrained, but it’s a tight leash and he’s failing. Goosebumps rise on the back of her neck when his fingers card adoringly through her hair at the next clumsy rock of his hips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She loves him like this: his head bowed, eye closed, golden hair sticking to his parted lips as he lets out wordless praises of her every touch. The sweetly virginal sound he makes when she grabs his ass again sparks something wicked in her, and like an animal, she lunges up and takes him down onto his back so that he’s sprawled out in the dewy grass how she wants him. He doesn’t let out a single complaint, just props himself up on his elbow and stares down at her in bashful awe before she dives down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes his cock into her mouth with a new urgency, and she knows with all her enthusiasm, he won’t last long—but when his hands weave through her hair again and his hips lift, she can’t bring herself to slow down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wants him unmade. Melted like sugar in hot water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri arches with a groan when Byleth wraps her hand around the base of him and moves in time with her mouth. His hands in her hair are reverent, rubbing at her scalp before drifting down to stroke at her face. Byleth is lulled by the touch, and she lifts her head to nuzzle into his palms before bobbing back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s leaking onto her tongue, and she can feel him getting close; his body becomes a taut string waiting to be plucked and released, and every muscle seems to tighten beneath her. When she hears him trying to bite back his moans, her hand rises to his mouth, and two fingers slip past his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right away, the noise he makes is unrestrained as she holds his mouth open to force it out. He could easily break free of her grip—it’s all the better, Byleth thinks with a thrill, that he chooses not to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Byleth,” he gasps out, muffled from her fingers on his tongue. “Oh, I can’t...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Byleth breaks away to speak; her hand pumps at him in short, quick strokes. “You’re almost there,” she whispers. “Let yourself come—let me see it.  ” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s all he needs. A few more strokes and he’s there, coming in great, rolling waves onto his stomach as he moans brokenly around her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth strokes him through it, praising him in wicked whispers until his body goes slack. She watches the muscles in his stomach twitch, his head thrown back as he works to catch his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A mighty beast, finally soothed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She makes quick work of cleaning him up, just a haphazard swipe of the end of her dress that she’ll worry about later. Dimitri weakly gestures for her, a wordless </span>
  <em>
    <span>come to me</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Byleth answers at once. She slides up the length of him, and his arms loop around her back to hold her snug against his heaving chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long silence passes in which they almost doze off to sleep, languid in the warm sun like cats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we to do?” Dimitri asks softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth nuzzles her face into the curve of his neck. Words fail her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When we see Sylvain and Felix...” Dimitri’s fingers play at the back of her neck. “Do you suppose they’ll know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth’s shoulders shake in a little laugh. “Felix, no. Sylvain, yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri clears his throat. “And when we return home…” He trails off, then tries again. “What then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth lifts her head, looks down at him in awed silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what I want,” Dimitri says, his gaze flitting away. “But...not of your own wishes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All at once, Byleth remembers sitting with Seteth, the sunlight fanning down on them, the air buzzing electric with choice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels the warmth of Dimitri’s body beneath her, his solidity, the familiar lines of him that finally she can touch how she’s always wanted. The warmth of him that will soon be placed on a throne, coronated into finality after this all too brief interlude of rebuilding and breathing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do I want to be a queen? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something seizes in Byleth’s chest, and she bows her head to bury her face into Dimitri’s neck. “I want to go on like this,” she says, gasping, “here on the mountain, forever.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimitri kisses the top of her head and sighs deep into her hair. “Oh, Byleth,” he murmurs, mournful. “I would like that very much.”</span>
</p>
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